


You're hard to figure out

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, LLF Comment Project, Midsummer, Plotless Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: In which Olivier is jealous, Miles has no idea what's going on and everybody is a little bit irrational.





	You're hard to figure out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthernWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall/gifts).



> Okay NorthernWall,
> 
> after a hundred years, I finally did it. It's short and silly and really not my best, but it is done and gets us closer to the DetectiveNoirAU, so.....  
> I hope you still like it.

"Care to dance with me?"

They asked him in Ishvalan, a smile on their faces, a blush to their cheeks.

She understood what they were asking, had picked up on much of the language over the many times she'd been to the land by now. They were asking him to dance, which always prompted the same response from him, also in Ishvalan.

"No thank you, I'm here with ..."

The sentence always ending with a word she did not now, but thought to be a kind of honorific for her rank in the military. The people here knew after all that she'd once been his superior officer, though treating her refreshingly normal despite that. All other words she’d hoped to hear she’d been able to rule out, knowing most of the phrases lovers would say well by now, thanks to her quarters loud neighbours.

That Miles seemed to feel the need to point it out to everyone though, had her mood plummet. How the rejected women gathered together on one side of the Plaza too, whispering and looking in their, or rather her, direction.

Like she was the anchor keeping them all from spending time with one of the most sought-after bachelors Ishval had to offer.

Could get behind it, really. Miles was handsome, to say the very least. Not as bulky as some of her men had been, still were, broad-chested and rather lean instead. Had seen him workout and train the young men here, had gathered with many others to watch, feigning professional interest, instead transfixed by arms and chest, white hair and a sheen of sweat only serving to underline that he'd stuck to the strict training-regimen she'd ingrained into him. Apparently having taken it a step further, looking harder, skin darkened more by the sun, a gleam to it that had her hide a blush.

His face seemed even more clear-cut, a bit of weight having melted away, his cheek-bones higher, his nose more pronounced. His hair longer too, though still confined in its ponytail. The most apparent change that his glasses were missing, the item lost completely during the second year of restoration, after Grumman had finally gotten rid of the laws concerning Ishvalans in the military.

It had taken the old geezer long enough, in her opinion.

His red eyes beautiful, special to her, however many she saw on a daily basis during her visits. Silvery brows matching his silvery hair, the thing she noticed the most now his white eyelashes though. It was a detail that had never seemed very apparent to her at Briggs, with the few times he'd taken off the snow-blindness-googles.

Not to mention that he was kind and humorous, hard-working and sensitive. He was a good catch, according to the Ishvalan Ladies she'd overheard talking, brave and polite and oh-so-beautiful.

And she'd honestly thought, with how things had gone over the last few years, months, days especially, that he wouldn’t just introduce her to these other women as his former boss.

When he turned towards her after declining another woman’s question, catching the face she made while thinking about it all, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to play it off quickly.

"What’s the matter?"

His voice soft, his gaze inquiring. Leaned towards her, closer than he would've a few days ago, her brows furrowing at that in confusion.

Their dance around the other had been subtle, few had caught on. And with the years apart it had in turn only grown more apparent. There were feelings, unaddressed mostly, though there'd been hints, the kind that she'd obviously interpreted wrongly.

Cocked her head at him, mouth set into a thin line. The words coming from her mouth sounding cold, even to her.

"When your transition from Officer to diplomatic liaison for Ishval is completed, shall our cooperation cease then?"

His brows nit close together at that, lips forming an “o” of surprise. A nervous-sounding laugh escaped him.

"Well, I'd thought that when your transition from General to head-diplomat of the cabinet is completed, we'd work together closer than ever!"

A blush on his features she couldn’t explain.

With Mustang soon taking over as Fuhrer, the current polls at least saying that, they'd both change jobs. The governmental body was built almost anew from the ground up, ambassadors one thing that was going to be a part of Amestris policies again. Miles would take over being the emissary of Ishval, she'd act as Mustangs head-diplomat, keeping an eye on all of them, in charge of far-reaching negotiations too. Was already in the process of negotiating a treaty with Drachma, gossip saying that she had a short temper or not.

For she knew that it was true, her fuse short, but she'd also grown up with four siblings and a very demanding family and they were all still alive. If this wasn’t diplomacy, she didn’t know what was.

"And yet, I'm more and more getting the feeling that our subjects of discussion wouldn’t even remotely be the same!"

His expression, the puzzled look, the slack jaw, one that would've made her laugh, if it weren’t for her heart breaking.

"Olivier, I have no idea what we're talking about anymore?!"

Looked bewildered, his words feeling like he was mocking her, to which she turned away. Again, confronted with a small cluster of woman, whispering amongst the other, now interspersed with some men. They were all periodically looking in their direction, less than sly.

Their hands had touched yesterday, when she'd eaten alone with him at his hearth. Their fingers had intertwined, they'd looked at the stars above them and he'd talked about how they'd see the other more often soon, how happy he was because of this. Had wanted to be honest tonight with him, tell him the truth about what she felt. Had decided for it to happen this night, midsummer, one of the holiest days in the Ishvalan calendar.

It would mean even more then, knew that she'd held out for so long, could manage one more day.

Another woman asked him to dance, the green-eyed monster of jealousy rearing its head again and became best friends with the hurt inside of her. With one swift movement she stood up, winding a way through the many people, needing some space. Some clean air to clear her head.

A hand pulling her back, her back connecting to his chest with a thud.

"Care to dance with me?"

Was pulled, Miles not waiting for an answer. Just grabbing her hands, starting to move them to the music, not listening when she protested.

Ishvalan music could be slow, but wasn’t tonight, fast-paced instead. It was meant to entice as many people as possible to dance, midsummer a loud and almost raucous festivity. Felt her skirt brush along her calves, saw the tunic he wore swing in tune, sash almost whipping about. Did not think, _could not think_ , everything happening too fast for that.

Tried to free her hands of his grip and failed, tried not to look into his eyes and failed again.

One of his arms wound around her waist, pulled her flush against him and she wanted to scream. Instead heat rose to her cheeks, the world around them a blur of loud music and people. Did not know if people were looking, did not know where to put her hands, did not even know what to feel or think.

Could not even fathom what this all meant, why he played with her like that.

The music slowing down a bit, his eyes watching her. She'd given up on escaping his clutches for now, wanted to stay like this despite it all. His arms around her were warm, his face was a smile, his red eyes alight with mirth and a tad of worry. His voice soft when his mouth spoke close to her ear, her own eyes having found the whispering women once again, now clearly pointing in their direction.

The laugh, the words coming from him now, sounding nothing but relieved.

"You're jealous!"

Blushed at that, jealousy a feeling that she never wanted to call hers. Knew that he was right though, that all of these beautiful women were trying to snatch him from her and that she'd reacted accordingly. With absolute and utter nonsense.

No answer coming from her to that though, as she for one did not want to admit it. There was also still this little problem at how he'd introduced her to them, how very cryptic he so suddenly was with everything. The music around them picking up the pace again, their steps too, a word of the song catching her ear though, her thoughts.

Pyar.

The rest of the text did not seem like something you'd sing to a General, or anything else besides a lover, really. Was also unusually graphic for an Ishvalan song, though Miles had warned her that midsummer was something else, was the festival of devotion, love and fertility. Fought the blush down, almost screaming into her dance-partners ear over the music.

"What does Pyar mean?"

His look surprised. Then, understanding.

"You do not know?"

Shook his head, not willing to scream again. His grin stretching over his whole face. leaned down, seemingly as if to answer her, but instead captured her lips with his own. Pulled her tighter to him, lips soft, tasting off the bee-wax he always gifted her with, to keep her lips from chapping in the deserts heat. Every coherent thought escaping her when his tongue demanded entrance, granted swiftly. Their forms stilling admits the mass of dancing people.

Their mouths only breaking apart when both were near suffocation, grins plastered to their flushed faces.

His mouth close to her ear again, breath hot against her skin.

"Understood?"

Boxed him in the chest for the cheek, his faked wince convincing enough for her to let it go. Danced more with him then, moving in tune with the people around them, not even understanding in that moment how many had looked, were smiling at them. Her heart feeling incredibly light, ready to float up and lodge in her throat. Her world small, only focused on him.

Several songs later he pulled her away from the dancefloor again, finding an abandoned pile of pillows near a hearth, the sun still up in the sky, yet the air cold.

Pulled her close to him, winding and arm around her waist.

Words soon returning to him, the matter that had her heart in a chokehold only half an hour ago resolved within minutes. Both instead having a good laugh when they saw money exchange hands, when one of the priests in attendance handed them the festivities mandatory flowers for those having shown their love. Her pulling Miles close again, when another woman neared them, eyes set on him.

Kissed again, this time on her terms, long enough for the, surely crestfallen, girl to vanish.

His eyebrow rose, almost vanished in his ridiculous hairline.

"And you're sure you're not jealous?"

A "Tch" escaping her, the answer murmured against his lips.

"You're mine! I don’t share!"

Their lips meeting again, his laugh reverberating through her.

A question escaping her, when their lips parted for much-needed air again.

"Is it tradition that the women ask the men to dance at midsummer?"

His hair shaking in tune with his head.

"Everybody can ask, regardless of gender."

A frown on her face, this night’s experience so different from the other festivities she attended before.

"Then why..."

Was interrupted by him, pulling her impossibly closer, a fire in his eyes.

"Why nobody asked you to dance tonight? Well, let’s just say that I let slip what would happen if you were stolen away from me."

His lips faster than her retort, though she couldn’t help herself but utter a quip when coming up for air.

"Jealous, aren’t we?"

Her voice as haughty as his when he answered, a dark chuckle escaping him.

"You're mine, I don’t share!"

Their lips meeting yet again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_
> 
> I reply to every comment, though it sometimes takes me a day, or two.
> 
> I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/)


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